


A Floral Monstrosity

by Aspireeverything



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, so much of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3691641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aspireeverything/pseuds/Aspireeverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras doesn't turn around to check though, his eye twitching being the only inclination to Grantaire that he's even aware of what's just happened. Grantaire looks properly shocked at the sudden outburst, craning his neck to look behind Enjolras and assess the damage.</p>
<p>“You just broke the lamp.”</p>
<p>Enjolras has always hated that lamp anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Floral Monstrosity

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing.
> 
> Absolutely nothing.
> 
> As always, all mistakes are regrettably mine. Remember to tip your writer in the form of comments/kudos!

The apartment is relatively quiet for a Friday afternoon, the only actual noise coming from the bedroom where Grantaire is singing along to the radio as he cleans. Enjolras, who is supposed to be reviewing a case file, can imagine Grantaire probably swaying his hips along to the beat of the song as he sorts clothing and dusts. A smile creeps onto his face at the thought of his goofball of a boyfriend in the other room dancing along to that song Courfeyrac won’t stop singing around the office.

“ _My ex man bought his new girlfriend. She’s like oh my god-“_

The radio shuts off suddenly, but Enjolras barely pays any mind to it. The thing is old anyways and has a tendency to shut up by itself. Nothing out of the ordinary.

There’s almost a few minutes of silence until the bedroom door opens and Grantaire comes walking out, his socked feet creating padded footsteps against the hardwood floors. Enjolras looks up with a smile already on his face to greet Grantaire, but it quickly falls the second he sees what's in his hands.

A box.

Well not _just_ a box. A small, colorful, hideously floral box. But not only is it a horrifically patterned box. It's an eye sore of a box that's supposed to be the hiding place for _the_ box.

The _box_ box.

The tiny, black, velvet box that contains a silver band inside of it. A ring that has the sound waves of Enjolras saying _"I love you always"_ engraved on the inside of it. The ring that Enjolras had a plan to propose with tomorrow night. Very important words here being _had_. He's willing to bet that that plan won't be going into fruition.

Courfeyrac's going to be annoyed at the fact that the flash mob will have to be cancelled, but Bahorel will hate his guts because of the weeks of teaching their friends choreography will have gone to waste. He’ll have to think of a way to make it up to them, but right now that’s not his biggest worry.

"I found this fallen behind our dresser. Weird, right?" Grantaire twirls the small box around in his hands, a confused brow raised as he stares down at it.

_Shit shit shit shit shit shit shIT SHIT SHIT_

"Wow that's so weird." Enjolras agrees, laughing easily. A sharp panic swirls in his brain, a sweat breaking above his brow. The hiding spot had been perfect, but of course Grantaire had decided for it to be cleaning day and he just had to be ridiculously thorough. The wonderful, neat bastard.

"You're not the type to have something so unbelievably gaudy so maybe it's Jehan's and they accidentally left it here last time they came over."

Well he's not entirely wrong.

"Yep that's probably it."

“What’s also strange is that it’s locked. I wonder why that is?” Grantaire lifts the box so that it’s eye level, his fingers prying underneath the lid as if that will help it pop open. Enjolras knows very well that there’s a tiny lock at the front of it that requires an equally as tiny key that has been stowed away in his wallet since Jehan gave him the box. Of course he doesn’t let Grantaire know any of this, just lets him pick at the lid for a few seconds before stepping in.

“Yeah, I wonder why.” Enjolras gets up off the couch and takes a few long strides until he’s standing in front of Grantaire, the file he was meant to review long forgotten. He eyes the box as if it has personally wronged him for being found and reaches out for it. "Now let me just get that out of your hands." He removes the box gently from Grantaire's fingers, holding it tightly in his own the second it's completely in his hold. The grip is has the sharp corners digging into the soft flesh of Enjolras’s palms, but he doesn’t even wince, his mind running through plans in order to come up with an excuse for the box’s strange appearance in their apartment.

"I just can't help but wonder how it got in such a weird spot." Grantaire eyes Enjolras incredulously, eyes jumping between him and the floral monstrosity. There's something in the back of Enjolras's mind that keeps yelling " _he knows he knows abort abort abORT ABORT_ ".

So he does what any sensible adult would do in this sort of situation. He takes the box and tosses it behind his shoulder. There's a quick prayer said in his head as he flings it, willing the box to just disappear into thin air.

But he has no such luck.

There's a loud crash from behind Enjolras, but he doesn't dare to turn around. That sound could be multiple things depending on how far it got.  It could be the flower vase that Jehan had set up a few days ago, a mug that's bound to be placed somewhere around their apartment at all times, or the lamp on the side table beside the couch. His aim has never been very good and his athletic skills have never been up to par so he's banking on the lamp only a few feet away.

Enjolras doesn't turn around to check though, his eye twitching being the only inclination to Grantaire that he's even aware of what's just happened. Grantaire looks properly shocked at the sudden outburst, craning his neck to look behind Enjolras and assess the damage.

“You just broke the lamp.”

Enjolras has always hated that lamp anyways.

“Did I? Oh well, I suppose we should just go out and get a new one. Right now. Let’s get a new lamp right now. C’mon.” He tugs at Grantaire’s arm, pulling at it to attempt to get him to walk towards the door, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, Grantaire just stands there, giving him a strange look, his eyes searching Enjolras’s face for answers to questions he hasn’t posed.

Enjolras rakes his brain for a last ditch attempt to save his proposal plan, to find a good distraction, but everything is quickly shut down when Grantaire asks the simplest question in this situation. “Enj. What’s in that box?”

Grantaire looks mildly panicked as he stares at Enjolras, his eyes wide and searching. But there’s something else lying beneath that. Enjolras knows that look too well. He’s examined it time and time again since their relationship began six and a half years ago. Grantaire, underneath the thin layer of outer panic, looks hopeful. That’s why any attempt to salvage the planned proposal that was meant to be perfect goes straight out the window.

He has the chance to do this now, so why not do this now? Their relationship has been the farthest thing from perfect, but that has never mattered to them because even if it’s not perfection, it’s still loving and amazing. And Enjolras never wants that to end. He wants Grantaire to say yes, but he supposes he can’t if he hasn’t even asked yet.

Enjolras can feel Grantaire’s eyes trained on his as he turns around quietly to fetch the box laying in the middle of the broken pieces of the lamp. He picks it up and pulls out his worn leather wallet from his back pocket. He keeps his back turned from Grantaire as he unlocks the box, setting down the now empty container on the side table. He takes a deep breath, the velvet box clutched in his hand. It’s warm and the material is soft, an anchor to keep Enjolras grounded as he collects his thoughts properly. With one final breath he turns back around to face Grantaire, a look of sheer determination on his face as he takes the few steps forward.

Without any second thoughts he gets down on one knee and holds up the now open velvet box, the silver ring glinting as the light streams in through the pale curtains. Above him, Grantaire takes a sharp intake of breath, a hand coming up to cover his own mouth. His eyes are wider than they were before as he stares down at Enjolras. He looks like he could cry and quite honestly if he does start so will Enjolras. To avoid that, he starts talking, the speech he prepared coming out easily and with as much strength and affection he can muster.

“We met years ago and quite honestly, I thought you were insufferable.” Grantaire lets out a huff of air behind his hand that sounds vaguely like a laugh. It only prompts Enjolras to keep going, trying to will his hands to stop shaking. “And apparently you thought the same of me, but then we actually got to know each other. _Really_ know each other. It took months for us to become friends and more after that to properly fall for each other. Even in the beginning I thought you were intoxicating. I hated the way you scorned my beliefs and took great care to believe in nothing, but for some reason I wanted to learn more about you, to figure out why you saw the world the way you did. I wanted to change your mind, to make you believe in our cause. To believe in me. You filled every nook of my life before I even realized it, but once I did I found that I didn’t mind at all. You made me better all those years ago and you still continue to do so. You bring me a special kind of happiness that I have never been able to find before. You care for me, you laugh at my awful jokes, you kiss me every morning and every night without fail, you fight with me and challenge me, you fill my life with warmth and joy. But most importantly, you love me. You love me with every fiber of your being and I love you the same. I can’t imagine living a life where you aren’t there right beside me and I don’t ever want to. My beautiful, wonderful, talented Grantaire. I love you more than anything in the world so will you give me the privilege of letting me do so for the rest of our lives?” Enjolras takes a deep breath, his bottom lip threatening to quiver.

“Grantaire, will you marry me?”

There’s a brief moment of panic when there isn’t an immediate answer, but before Enjolras can open his mouth, there are arms around his neck and kisses being peppered on his face.

“Yes, yes, _yes_ , you dumb amazing idiot. Yes, of course, I will marry you oh my god.” Grantaire had somehow dropped to his knees before Enjolras could even process it and now he kneels in front of him, his hands cupping Enjolras’s face and tears running down his cheeks. But he’s smiling brighter and wider than Enjolras has ever seen him smile.

Enjolras lets out a huff of laughter, the tears finally escaping his eyes. His whole body feels like it’s floating, sheer elation flooding his system. He surges forward, capturing Grantaire’s lips with his own, but they’re both smiling too much for it to be a proper kiss yet they don’t seem to mind in the slightest. “Really? Are you sure?” Enjolras asks because he’s Enjolras and it’s the first thing to come out of his mouth.

“Yes you doofus, I’m sure.” Grantaire flicks his arm lightly, rolling his eyes for emphasis, but his expression is pure affection as he looks back at Enjolras. Enjolras admires the way Grantaire is smiling at him, his face open and expressive and so full of love. He looks beautiful like this and Enjolras even says so. Grantaire snorts, directing Enjolras’s attention back to the fact that the ring is still in the box between them after he leans in for a quick kiss.

“Oh yeah! Right, right, let me just…” Enjolras pulls out the ring and easily slides it onto the hand Grantaire holds out to him. The ring fits perfectly on his finger, Grantaire admiring it, that wide smile still on his face as he looks at it. “I love it.” A quick peck on the lips. “And I love you more than anything.” A longer, deeper kiss.

“I did have an actual plan, you know.” Enjolras says, pulling away from the kiss but still leaning his forehead against Grantaire’s.

"So your grand plan _wasn’t_ to throw the box over your shoulder, break a lamp, and pretend nothing happened?" Grantaire laughs lightly, a familiar fondness painting his voice.

“That was me panicking.” Enjolras pulls a face, sneaking a quick look behind him at the broken pieces of the once horrendous lamp. Yet e can’t bring it in himself to regret this at all. “There were going to be roses and candles, even a flash mob. It was going to be this whole thing. Bahorel and Courf are going to be really upset when they find out that the flash mob is a no go. I have a feeling that after all the congratulations and happy tears that I’m going to get punched by one or both of them.” Enjolras shivers at the thought of being punched by Bahorel because even that man’s loving, playful punches hurt like hell.

“Or…” Enjolras’s attention is brought back immediately. “We could let them perform the flash mob because honestly, I do really want to see that. You don’t get punched and I get to witness a flash mob in real life! I think it’s a win-win.” Grantaire shrugs while Enjolras nods along to the plan.

“Add this on the list of reasons why my fiancé is so awesome. He goes along with my insane plans because apparently I don’t do anything by halves.” Enjolras says, taking Grantaire’s hand in his and squeezing it. He pauses for a moment, reviewing what he had just said and smiling. “Fiancé. I like the sound of that.” The title is something new on Enjolras’s lips, but he can’t help but love it.

“Me too.” Grantaire smiles back, squeezing Enjolras’s hand back in return.

It’s later that night when they’re both tangled up in bed, content and tired, their hands clasped together. Enjolras can feel the cool metal in his hand and he can’t help but smile at it. The sounds of the city seep into their bedroom, the light night breeze making the curtains flutter. Grantaire’s head is pillowed on Enjolras’s chest, familiar dark curls tickling the bottom of his chin. They’re right when they say that their relationship isn’t perfect because sometimes they disagree harshly then fight and yell, but it’s moments such as these that make perfection completely overrated.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been so absent with my writing lately and I apologize greatly for that! I'm working on a million fics at once and I promise that eventually loads of them will be uploaded. Fret not, my dears. 
> 
> I truly hoped you enjoyed this self-indulgent piece of fluff!


End file.
